


the barest of threads

by alljuststars (allthelight)



Category: Gallagher Girls Series - Ally Carter
Genre: F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, or as much of a friendship as they could have, rachel and edward friendship, set in OGSY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:48:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24514126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthelight/pseuds/alljuststars
Summary: '“I wanted to explain my actions earlier today.”She regards him stonily. “I think you already explained your actions, and I think I already told you exactly how I felt about them. But please, feel free to correct me if I’m wrong. Us Gallagher girls do get confused so very often in the presence of big tough MI6 operatives.”'A conversation is required. Edward Townsend tries apologising and Rachel Morgan gives out some advice. Set after Joe Solomon's capture in Only the Good Spy Young.
Relationships: Abigail Cameron/Edward Townsend, Rachel Morgan & Edward Townsend
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	the barest of threads

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly rereading the books gives me so many feels. And I was so interested in Rachel and Townsend and how they got from the moment in the foyer to the caves. I dunno, maybe I'm overreaching but I always had the feeling that they knew each other a while before. This also maybe depicts Townsend as softer than he appears in book 4, but ya know, he's really softer than he seems. 
> 
> It also contains mention of him and Abby because I have also realised how much I loved them. Enjoy!

It’s later at night as Edward Townsend walks along the corridor. The school is dark and silent around him, safe, but he knows that safety is only an illusion. All it would take is the trip of a switch, the push of a button, and sirens would be blaring, lights would be flashing, and every single member of staff would be running towards not the source, but to protect Cameron Morgan.

He doesn’t expect her mother to be in her office, and though it’s where he’s intending to go, it still surprises him to see the light shine out from underneath the door. Of course, he can’t say for certain, having no experience in the area, but he’s sure that if he had a child of his own who was the target for an ancient terrorist organisation, then he’d be standing in the corner of their room watching them sleep, unable to rest himself. No matter if they’re a trained spy.

But Rachel Morgan is an exceptional woman, and if she knows anything then she knows how to keep going when things have to be done. So though watching over Cammie is probably the only thing she wants to do at this moment, she knows that there are more pressing matters that require her attention, that have to be done regardless of thought or feeling, and that her daughter sleeps in the same room as a Baxter, so she’s as safe as she could be at this time. Even Edward Townsend respects her deeply for that.

“Come in,” she says before he’s even knocked on the door, and he steps in silently.

She’s sitting at her desk, hair pulled tightly behind her head but tendrils are starting to escape around her ears. Only the desk lamp is on and papers are piled in front of her. The expression on her face is flat, revealing nothing she doesn’t want him to see, but there are signs such as the dark thumbprints beneath her eyes, and the thinness of her cheeks that reveal a tiredness not even the best operative could hide.

“Agent Townsend,” she says, her voice perfectly empty. Not even the forced politeness, only the barest civility, is afforded to him now. “This is a surprise.”

“Mrs. Morgan,” he says, nodding his head. He gestures to the work strewn across her desk. “If you’re busy then I can leave.”

“No,” she says immediately. “Stay.”

He nods again, knowing that perhaps she knows he doesn’t want to have this conversation and is making him do it anyway. Payback for earlier in a way that seems diplomatic and appropriate. He has to hand it to the woman, she knows exactly what she’s doing.

“Please, sit.” She gestures to the chair in front of her desk. “What can I do for you, Agent Townsend?”

He sits down and wonders how many Gallagher girls have said in this spot over the years, to be scolded or praised by a headteacher. He feels rather like one of them now and can tell by the look in Rachel’s eyes that it’s not going to be praise he’ll receive tonight.

This conversation was not pre-meditated, and as such, Edward finds himself at a loss. His head has been spinning all day, ever since they detained Joe Solomon in front of the Junior CoveOps class, ever since they used Cammie Morgan as bait, ever since Rachel Morgan told him he was out of line, and made it quite clear what she thought of him and his ideas.

He’s had experience with the Cameron women before but never had he felt such venom, such hatred, as he had at that moment on the stairs. He’s not a man who lets things like this bother him, at least not on the surface. The nature of the job is that there are people who are displeased with your actions, people who believe that there are different, better ways to do things. He’s learned to live with it. But none of those people have ever had the look that Rachel did, and none of them had faced losing quite as much.

“I wanted to explain my actions earlier today.”

She regards him stonily. “I think you already explained your actions, and I think I already told you exactly how I felt about them. But please, feel free to correct me if I’m wrong. Us Gallagher girls do get confused so very often in the presence of big tough MI6 operatives.”

Edwards grinds his teeth. If he didn’t know any better he would swear he was listening to the other sister. For a moment he’s transported back in time, but then he shakes his head.

“There’s no need for that,” he says reflexively, the way he would perhaps speak to the other Cameron sister. It’s the wrong thing to say, and it always is, but especially this time. Suppressing a wince, he says, “There was a good reason for what I had to do. In this life we have to make decisions, take risks. It’s the nature of it.”

“You don’t need to tell me we need to take risks,” she snaps suddenly, folding over a file with a razor-sharp flick of the paper. “Believe me, I know we take risks. We take them and we have that choice. You didn’t give my daughter a choice.”

It was different earlier in the foyer. Rachel had been a headmistress, a spy, a woman angry, yes, but still in control. At this late hour, in the privacy of her office, he simply sees a mother terrified of losing her child the way she lost her husband. A mother hanging on by a thread.

“Ms. Morgan had a choice,” he says rather sharply.

“You baited her and berated her into going with you. That’s not a choice. That’s coercion.”

He leans forward, daring to put his elbows on the desk. “Joe Solomon had to be stopped and this was the only way. We had to get him.”

“Did you?” She looks at him a long moment. “Do you truly think that Joe Solomon would ever hurt my daughter?”

It’s a question he’s asked himself over and over again, ever since he told Abby about what he’d found out. She had asked him the same question _He loves them. He loves both of them. It’s wrong. You have to be wrong._ And though Edward Townsend rarely wishes for anything anymore, he had wished for that. The tears in Abby’s voice had been enough to drive him to his drinks cabinet, if only to stare at it through the whole night.

“I think he’s a member of the Circle. And I think it’s not so easy to leave, especially when he’s so close to what they want.”

He wishes he could give her a different answer. He wishes that Joe Solomon wasn’t involved in the death of her husband and that he wasn’t involved in the attempted abduction of her daughter. He wishes that he didn’t have to tell her, “We have the proof, Rachel. He ran. There’s nothing more incriminating than that.”

Rachel’s eyes fill with tears but she nods, turning away from him to wipe them away. He’s known her for years, they’ve worked on a mission together, but she’ll never cry in front of him and he’s glad for it. He can bear it with Abby, but the usually so strong and put together Rachel, the person who always seems to have it under control, would be far more than he could handle.

“You still shouldn’t have used Cammie. She isn’t a pawn for you.”

“It was our best chance at getting him,” he says ready to defend himself to the death for this one. “Our only chance.”

“Haven’t you noticed this yet, Edward? The people who keep coming for her aren’t the people you seem to be focused on. It seems as though you’re forgetting who the real danger is. You talk to me about my attachment to Joe Solomon, well why don’t we talk about your attachment to _her_? She’s the architect of this, you know she is, and she’s the one you don’t seem to care about stopping.”

He blanches, suddenly very angry and very sad. He hadn’t pegged Rachel as the one to throw that back in his face.

“I’d kill her if I could,” he says quietly, jaw pulsing with the effort of containing all the curses he’d like to throw out into the world at the mention of her. “Unfortunately, I have a few obstacles in my way. Namely Joe Solomon.”

Rachel laughs, but it’s a cold and short sound. “You can’t seriously think he’s protecting her?”

“Anything is possible. Who would have thought a CIA golden boy would be a double agent? They’re that good.”

“And yet you still offered up my daughter as bait to them? You were there to watch Joe, all of you were. Who was there to watch her?”

Despite what Rachel might believe, Edward had taken every precaution available to him to ensure Cammie’s safety and Joe Solomon’s incarceration. Agents had surrounded the perimeter and saturated the park, and there had been two helicopters flying above in a rotation. Yes, they were there for double duty, and yes, there had been a moment, a second, where all eyes had been on Joe, but it had all worked out in the end. The mission had been successful, and while he can understand Rachel’s annoyance, he can’t understand her rage.

“She’s an operative, Rachel, and the Junior class were also there. She would have been fine.”

Her lips press together in a tight line. “Like she was fine in Boston? Like she was fine in DC? Like she was fine in London? I’m sorry but you and I must have very different definitions of fine. And let’s not brush aside the fact that you arrested Joe in front of the entire Junior class. I know the beliefs of teenage girls don’t concern you very much, but there was no reason to traumatise them all quite like that.”

“Is that what you’re focusing on?” He can’t help himself. He is a good agent and he knows his worth, but she’s riled him in a way that seems to be a trait of the Cameron women. “That I upset one class?”

But she won’t be baited. “There were better ways to do it and you know it. It should be an insult to your intelligence for me to have to tell you that.”

“Rachel-”

“The girls of this school are not toys to be used by any organisation in their games.” Her face has a thunderous look. “Not _one_ of them.”

“We got him. It doesn’t matter anymore,” he says fervently, wanting only for her to be glad, or at least relieved that maybe some small part of this is over. “We got him.”

“I told you before: Joe Solomon is the least of anyone’s problems. Your ego is clouding your judgment of that.”

And maybe it’s the tired look on her face or the weariness of her voice, but Edward finally understands why she isn’t victorious about it, why she isn’t relieved, even if annoyed, at his capture. To her, Joe Solomon isn’t a traitor and he isn’t after her daughter, or at least not only just. He’s the best friend of her husband’s, the husband who’s most likely dead now, and the teacher of her daughter. He’s another piece of her family taken away.

There’s a lump in his throat. “Rachel,” he begins, softly and lowly, “I never would have let anything happen to Cammie. Never. You have to believe that.”

“Do I?” And the tiredness in her voice is palpable. “In the last few months alone my daughter has been attacked on a hotel roof, the eyes of the world have been on the school the way they never have been before, my daughter has been almost abducted again, my sister has been shot, and my friend-” her voice cracks on the word “-my husband’s best friend has been revealed to be a double agent. All things I never believed would happen before now. You’ll forgive me if I have trouble believing anything that you say.”

He has nothing to say to that. She’s right, even if he doesn’t want her to be. He’s a good operative, assured of his own ability, but he can’t promise her anything. That would make him a fool, maybe even a liar, and in this profession, you can’t be both.

It’s a long, uncomfortable silence that stretches between them but what should he say? The fragile trust that Rachel might have had in him is gone. Usually, he wouldn’t care, he isn’t in the business of pretending he’s a blameless man, but he does now. He isn’t the bad guy here, and yet that is all they see. That weighs on him more than he would ever admit.

So instead he clears his throat and, with an uncharacteristic nervousness, asks, “How is your sister?”

Rachel has been cradling her head in her hands, and when she looks up there’s almost a hint of a smile on her face. “You haven’t spoken to her?”

“Once, briefly.” The memory of that afternoon phone call and Abby’s rage floats through his mind. _Sloppy of you to get shot, love._ He loves to wind her up. But only after he’d known she was okay. “When I told her about Solomon.”

“Ah, yes. When you told my sister about it before me.” But then she shakes her head and sighs. “She’s fine. Off looking for answers.” There’s a beat. “You should call her.”

“I… I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

This sudden vulnerability unbalances him, especially in front of Rachel Morgan. Edward Townsend doesn’t have many friends, and even if he didn’t he wouldn’t tell them his deepest darkest secrets and fears and hopes and dreams. But then he feels Rachel doesn’t cry in front of many people and maybe this is a new sort of relationship they’re creating, something made of mutual grief and despair, forged in the deep dark of night.

She cocks her head to the side. “You need to forgive her.”

His heart suddenly feels heavy in his chest. He has nothing to say to that. What is there to say? That he can’t? That he’s not sure he ever could? That he’s not sure who needs forgiving?

“Buenos Aries was years ago, Edward. You both need to move on.”

“Do I? You were there, Rachel. You know what happened. You tell me that you weren’t angry? You tell me that you could move on from that?”

He’s only been on one mission with Rachel, but that’s not the reason it was so memorable. It haunts him to this day. Though his primary focus is the Circle, he can never let this one go.

“Let me ask you something?” Rachel says, sounding like a headmistress. Her hands form a triangle on the desk in front of her and he has a feeling she’s about to be very frank. “You’d risk your life for the Circle, yes? To stop them?”

“Of course I would.”

“You’d die to stop them?”

“Absolutely.”

She nods thoughtfully. “You’d die for something you believe in, and you’d do anything to stop those people from hurting others.” She fixes him with a stern look. “So why are you punishing Abby for doing the same thing?”

He counts to five before answering, in a voice so unlike his own, “It’s not the same thing.”

“Isn’t it?”

“I’m not punishing her.”

“Aren’t you?”

Edward takes a deep breath. “You were there.”

“I was. And I get it. But it’s not up to you or I to tell my sister who to risk her life for. It’s her choice. It’s always been her choice.”

Yeah, he’s heard that one before.

_You know why I did it._

_It was bloody stupid, is what it is. You almost got yourself killed._

_The wounds are just superficial. Little bit of SkinAgain and I’ll be good as new._

_Even if that were true that wouldn’t be the point. You don’t get to do that!_

_No. You don’t ever get to say that. It’s my choice and I’d make it again if I had to. It would be the same every damn time._

The memory is like a noose around his neck, getting tighter and tighter as it goes on until he can’t breathe. Some days he forgets. Others it’s like no matter how hard he scrubs he can still feel the blood on his hands.

“I-” he starts, but then stops, realising there’s nothing he can say.

“Do you want some advice?” Rachel asks, sounding like the big sister he knows her to be. All he can do is nod. Her eyes are softer as she says, “You need to move on from it, get past it. It happened and it’s done. In this game you can’t be taking your time playing.” She takes a deep breath. “I know it’s different for the two of you, but all I can tell you is that nothing would make me trade the years I had with Matt then losing him for not knowing him at all.”

He wants to ask her how she could bear it, but it would make him feel like a coward. After all, the person he loves isn’t missing presumed dead. She’s off following leads. He could text her if he wanted to. Suddenly he feels very inferior being in this place.

“Thank you, Rachel,” he tells her. And then, sincerely, “I’m sorry.”

She looks at him for a long moment, trying to gauge just what exactly he is sorry for. And he is, sorry that is. Sorry for making her afraid. Sorry for the loss of her husband. Sorry that he didn’t bring better news with him. Sorry that her daughter is a terrorist target. In this moment he doesn’t know what one he is apologising for. Perhaps all of them.

“Thank you,” she says evenly, and her face is softened now. He nods and goes to stand up, feeling old and tired. His finger itches for the phone in his pocket. The jammer doesn’t apply to him, and he can text and call whomever he chooses. He just wishes he could be sure that the person he most wants to call would answer.

He’s almost out the door when Rachel calls, “Agent Townsend?”

Back to formality, The moment is over. “Yes?”

“I understand that you would do anything to stop the Circle, but you have to understand that not everybody is willing to do the same.”

The softness disappears from her face, and if he were the type of man he would feel very afraid.

“My daughter is not a price to pay. None of these girls are. You can sacrifice whatever you like, but you do not ask anybody here to do the same.”

He knows an order when he hears one, and he knows that today Rachel was forgiving. There will be no second time. “I understand.”

“Oh, you best make sure you do. I don’t care what’s going on with you and Abby, if I even get a hint of today happening again then you can be sure that there will be nowhere you can run where I will not find you. MI6 will not be enough to keep you safe.”

Rarely he has heard it mentioned just how much of a legacy the Cameron sisters are, but here he is in no doubt. This is a master he is dealing with here. He has met his match.

“You can be assured, Mrs. Morgan. This will not happen again.” _Joe Solomon is in custody_ he wants to add, but he doesn’t. He isn’t that much of an arsehole.

“Good,” she says, holding his gaze. “Goodnight, Agent Townsend.”

He bows his head, unable to help the small smile on his face. “Goodnight, Mrs. Morgan.” And leaves.

As he walks back down the hallway, he reaches into his pocket and brings out his phone, navigating automatically to Abigail, C. His thumb hovers over the call icon for an embarrassingly long time, but it’s no use. He can’t do it just yet. The noose is still tight around his neck and the blood still slick on his hands. Until that is gone, he knows he will never be able to press the button.

He is tired suddenly, and heartsick. Being surrounded by these teenage girls who are so young to experience what they are is weighing heavily on him. Seeing the place that made _her_ is almost too much to bear. Sick with betrayal and longing and loneliness, he does the only sane thing he can think of and, with a heavy heart, he goes to bed, ready to start again in the morning.


End file.
